� poor �Chips�� child � to his mother-in-
law � who has conveyed it away to Minnesota.
Mort never loved it and I dare say Grace don�t
want to be troubled with ready-made babies.
And the old woman who pulls the strings, would
think it well out of the way of her daughter.
Mort has repeated his �versified lecture� here
and there; will make $ 1000 by it. Cahill
visited the house once. He seems to have lost
sight of the wet-nurse, who has gone away.
Cahill is now a little cock-a-hoop anent a
new comic paper which he has been asked to
write for. Its editor will be Frank Wood,
a very young man in every sense, its artist
Stephens, of Frank Leslie�s paper, its capital-
ist and founder, the brother of this Stephens.
The first name proposed was �the Owl� � a stu-
pid one � the second �Vanity Fair;� which is
that, at present, decided on. Clapp, O�Brien,
Banks and others of that ilk are spoken of.
Clapp�s �Saturday Press� still survives � how
kept alive, only he knows. It is impudent,
flippant, Frenchy and pretentious, principal-
ly got together on the dead-head principle.
Arnold sends gratis contributions, �Ada Clare�
�Getty Gay� and other unfortunate literary fe-
males combine to fill its columns. The first
of these some years back made an attempt �